Fare Ammenda
by Aenea
Summary: FINAL CHAPTERS UPLOADED!! MORE ROMANCE!! After a mission goes a little dodgy Sydney is sent on another mission to make amends. While there, will Syd and Vaughn reveal their true feelings for each other?
1. Default Chapter

**Title**: Fare Ammenda

**Author:** Pommy

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any part of ALIAS. This story is entirely my own, yadda yadda yadda, you get the point.

**Summary**: After a counter-mission doesn't go as planned, Sydney has to join a team of CIA agents to fix it before another SD-6 agent arrives. Plus she still has to keep the whole thing a secret from SD-6, and her friends. (Set during early in season one.) Action/Adventure, maybe humour, maybe drama

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This mission had gone to shit almost before it had even started. It seemed simple enough: infiltrate a party, steal some papers from the study and make a quiet getaway. Oh, and somehow make a switch with the papers without my partner noticing. All in a days work. But, of course, everything went wrong.

*

I walked up to the security guard, feeling pretty confidant about myself. Who wouldn't, wearing a Versace gown and not even having to worry about ruining it? And, I must say, I did look pretty ravishing. The security guard seemed to agree by the way he was practically drooling on the floor. I stopped in front of him, gave him a million-dollar smile and waited. He finally recovered himself enough to ask my name. 

"Amelie Toussaint," I said in my best snooty nosed French accent. The security guard frowned and looked at his guest list while I tapped my foot impatiently. After a long pause (that made me doubt whether the man could actually read) he looked up and gave me an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry miss, but you aren't on the guest list," he said. I was shocked, and I'll admit, a little pissed. I spun on my (Gucci) heel and stormed off to until I was out of earshot. Then I took a deep breath and proceeded to give my lovely partner Dixon a mouthful.

"I _thought_ you got me on the guest list!! How am I supposed to get in now?" I seethed into the microphone, my accent slipping back to American in my anger. Good thing the guard couldn't hear me. I glared at the microphone as if it was, somehow, it's fault. After a wait that allowed me to regain my composure (by counting to ten in as many languages as I could: One two three…Une Deux Trois…Uno Due Tre…you get the point) Dixon finally answered.

"I thought I got you onto the guest list as well, Syd…" Dixon said, confused. I hissed at the microphone. By now you've probably guessed that I was not in a good mood. "Maybe you should just find some lonely guy, flirt with him and ask him to get you in," he ventured lamely. I started to yell at him, but then realised that I wasn't really entitled to. I hadn't exactly come up with any ingenious plans to get me in. Looks like I was going to have to go along with it. Better put my pathetic, clingy loser face on. Not exactly the look I was going for when I chose this outfit.

*

I surveyed the garden in the desperate hope that maybe there would be a _cute_ drunken, dateless guy for me to work my charm on. No such luck. Looks like I was just going to have to settle for young…ish. I walked up to the guy sitting on the chair in front of the lake with a bottle of spirits and a very dis-spirited face. (I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.) Taking a deep breath, I plopped down onto the seat next to him. He barely even noticed me. I was a bit upset by that, so I sighed heavily. Slightly more interest now. Wait, Sydney, wait…okay, the timing was perfect. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. Finally! He gave just the reaction I was after. Unfortunately, I could hear Dixon sniggering down the microphone. I decided to ignore him, and pay more attention to my acting.

I peeked at the man between my fingers. He was looking around, panicked, as if checking to see if anyone was going to help me. Or blame him. Unfortunately for him (and fortunate for me) there was no one around. He looked at me nervous, then tentatively reached out and touched my shoulder. I sobbed louder. He withdrew his hand for a moment, and then touched my shoulder again. It was the perfect moment. I looked up at him, sniffling and gave a sheepish smile. 

"My boyfriend, he-he- he told me that he'd get my name onto the guest list…" I started (remembering my French accent again), and then sobbed some more. He made suitable consoling sounds, which invited me to continue making up my story.

"I was so excited, I even bought new clothes…and he _lied_ to me!! He's probably at home, laughing at me with all his friends," I managed before I broke down into more sobs. He made even more consoling noises and I continued snivelling and making up my awful sob story. The whole time Dixon was snickering at me. I was going to have a word with him after this mission. After a bit (okay, a lot) of crying, the man offered to let me in. I gave him my foolproof, starry-eyed stare and I was in. Sucker.

*

Of course, you can't open your heart to someone, and then ignore him or her as soon as you get what you want. I had to spend some time with my 'saviour' before I could finish the mission. Which means that we were already behind time, a fact that I was well aware of without Dixon's constant reminders. After spending as little time as possible with my entry ticket, I went off to the "ladies room." After making a few "wrong turns," I found myself in the study. Oh, damn, what a pity. And the safe just "flew open" and some papers "fell to the floor." Well, you can't expect me to leave them there! So I gathered up the papers and stuffed them back in the safe…minus a few pieces, which I folded up and stuffed in my bag. I then slammed the safe shut and made my way out of there. 

I walked quickly down the hall. I had barely gotten a few paces before a heard a voice cry out for me to stop. I froze, and then slowly turned around. It was a security guard. He pounded down the hall and stopped bare inches in front of my face. I took a step back.

"What were you doing in there?!" he bellowed. _Uh-oh_, I thought. _I'm in trouble._

"I'll have to look in your bag miss," he demanded. I faked a look of outrage, before knocking him unconscious. I was backing away nervously when I heard the security radio crackle 

"Unknown person or persons in secured zone…team sent to investigate, over," it said in a tinny voice. 

"Oh _merde_," I said.

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_Author's Note:_

_There is a plot coming in somewhere, don't worry. This is my first ALIAS story, and I could really use some feedback (good, bad or ugly.) Any mistakes are entirely my own._


	2. The Switch

_Author's Note: Thanks for all the feedback, it's really great. I reassure you, the plot is coming. _

*

I was doing what I do best- running down hallways trying to escape from blundering security guards. The only thing missing was techno music. Anyway, while I ran I thanked God, Allah and any other religious icon I could think of for making it that whenever someone hires security guards they don't run intelligence tests. I ducked into a broom closet, and the security team ran right on past me. I sighed in relief, and then backed out of the closet. I looked around quickly, and then dashed to the front door. I was nearly home free when one of the guards kindly turned around, spotted me and yelled loudly. I sighed irritably. More running. This time I kicked of my expensive shoes (with only the slightest regret…okay, I was pissed they had to go), and ripped the skirt of my dress. See what I mean- it's good to wear expensive clothes and not have to worry about taking care of them. I then proceeded to run.

My bare feet pounded on the cobblestone road, and my silk stockings were now nothing but tatters. I was going to kill Dixon- he could have parked the van just a little bit closer to the house, but nooooo. He had to make me run through half a dozen streets, barefoot, on a European winter's night. And, to make things worse, it had started to rain. My hair had fallen out of its delicate bun and was hanging in wet strands. Okay, not hanging, more like slapping me repeatedly in the face. I was not pleased, and decided to inform Dixon. I think that may have been what inspired him to drive to me. I know, I should be thankful he came to get me at all, but did he really have to drive through a puddle so big it should be classified as a lake? And aim just so that it hit me right in the face? Fortunately for him, he had enough self-preservation not to laugh at me.

*

I guess you'd think that'd be the end of my mission. And you'd be right…if it was any other agent. But not me, not Agent Sydney Bristow, SD-6. Also known as Special Agent Sydney Bristow, CIA. Nope, I was one of only two agents in SD-6 who gets the joy of being a double agent. The other agent just happens to be my father, Jack Bristow. Yeah, I know, strange coincidence, huh. Well, it gets worse. My mother just happens to be none other than a secret agent herself. Unfortunately for her, it was for the wrong side. Yep, my darling mother, Laura Bristow, was KGB operative Irina Derevko. So I guess lying about what you do for a living runs in my family. I lie to my friends, and I even lie to my partner. I trust Dixon with my life, but not with my secrets. He (hopefully) has no idea that I'm a double agent. And I'd like to keep it that way. So making the switch between documents so the CIA can have the originals is slightly difficult.

I normally do the switch at a public place, with my CIA handler Michael Vaughn. I don't really understand him- one minute he's all serious, the next he's breaking rules to help me. He's not a field agent, so he shouldn't be the one I perform the swap with, yet somehow he manages to get away with it. Another thing I don't understand- he knows intimate details about me, he knows almost my whole life. And I know barely anything about him. Oh, yeah, I know basic stuff- he has a dog, likes hockey. Oh, and that my mother killed his father. That's about it. So I am supposed to trust someone I know hardly anything about. I wonder whose bright idea that was. Anyway, back to the switch. We had decided on something basic, not to complicated. During the stopover I would buy a hot dog from a vendor (who just happened to be Vaughn.) The fake papers would be in the bag the food comes in. Anyway, I eat the hotdog, and then go to the bathroom on the plane. While in there, I remove the fake papers and replace them with real papers. Then I throw away the bag in the paper towel dispenser, where another CIA agent will retrieve it. Sounds pretty easy, right? WRONG.

Well, our plane was late, so I was already behind for the switch. Then Dixon didn't really want to let me get a hot dog. He was worried we'd miss our flight, and it took even more time to convince him that we wouldn't. So I was able to buy my hot dog…except Vaughn was nowhere to be seen. A dark haired, serious looking man manned the only hot dog stand there. I decided to take a chance, and went over to him. 

"I'll have a hot dog with mustard," I ordered in a southern drawl. The man gave the slightest of nods and started to make my hot dog. When he handed me the food, he discreetly showed me his CIA badge. I sighed in relief, gave a brief nod of understanding and walked off. At least I had a vague semblance of an idea what was going on. I had no idea where Vaughn was, but I'd get it out of him later. I walked back to Dixon, munching happily on my hot dog. Damn I was hungry. I gave him a big, mustard-y smile. 

"This is good," I said through the food in my mouth. He grimaced at me. However, before I could gross him out any further our plane was paged. I stuffed the rest of the food in my mouth, scrunched the wrapper up and stuffed it into my bag. Then we boarded our flight.

*

I can't really blame what happened next on other people. It was my fault. I fell asleep on the plane. It was only when we were just about to land that I woke up, and I was slightly panicked. So I ran to the toilet without any explanation to Dixon. I could only hope that the switch was recoverable. I ducked into the ladies room, pulled the fake papers out of my bag and stuffed them into the bin. Then I splashed some water on my face, took a deep breath and came out again. I sat down and looked around nervously to see if the other agent was coming. There she was, walking up the aisle. I breathed a sigh of relief…too soon. The flight attendant asked her to take her seat, as we were about to begin our descent. I was totally freaking at this point, but the lady just took it in her stride. She sat back down and waited patiently. I had to hand it to her; she didn't look the least put out. Well, what's done is done, there was no use wondering about it now. I guessed that the other agent would get the papers somehow, and tried not to worry. After all, can't have me coming home from a bank trip to San Francisco looking stressed.


	3. The Reward for a Job Well Done

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Author's Note: Thank you for all the feedback. Please feel free to give more J 

I walked into the front door, dumped my suitcase on the floor and started to take off my coat and scarf. It was _cold_ out today. I hung my jacket and scarf up, picked up my bag and was nearly at my room when I heard Francie call out from somewhere in the kitchen.

"Is that you Syd?" she asked, ducking her head around the corner. I smiled and gave a little wave with my free hand.

"Hey there! How was San Fran? I had the worst day today, I was in class and it was halfway through the lecture when I realised I'd left my assignment at home and…" She could talk for ages once you got her started. I dropped my suitcase on the floor and sat on the couch wearily. I mean, I love Francie and everything, but the only thing I needed right now was some sleep. I let her talk for a bit, then interrupted her.

"Francie, I'm really tired. I might just go to bed, okay? We can talk in the morning," I said as I stood up. Francie nodded understandingly, and I struggled down the hall in search of sleep.

*

Sloane was pissed. I could tell as soon as he entered the room. Even Marshall could tell- he actually sat still for awhile. I sighed. We were in for a long meeting. Sloane sat at the head of the table, took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose and put them back on again. Everyone waited. 

"The papers were fakes," he started. Dixon and I let out little gasps of dismay- his real, mine just me trying to save my ass. Sloane continued.

"However, we may be able to recover them. There were duplicates made and it is possible that we could retrieve them. I will be sending a mission to Europe do just that." _Great,_ I thought. _Europe…in winter. Again. How fun._ Of course I couldn't let anyone see this, so I sat up attentively.

"But I wont be sending Sydney." _WHAT?!_ "I feel that this job is better suited to one of our other field agents. He'll be leaving on Friday. I'm sorry Sydney." Sloane said. I didn't know what to think. Was he telling the truth? Did he suspect something? What on earth was going on?

Sloane turned to Marshall. "I expect you to meet with Agent Richmond by first thing tomorrow morning," he said, then stood up and left. So I was mistaken- we weren't in for a long meeting. Everyone else sat there for a minute, then finally stood up and left. Dixon smiled apologetically at me on the way out, which I returned, then stood up and practically ran to my father's office. We had to talk.

"I don't what's going on any more than you do, Sydney, but I'll try to find out," said my father. I had the feeling he was trying to placate me, and told him so. "I mean it Syd, I will try to find out what's going on. We can't talk here. Meet me tomorrow morning, at the pier." I nodded, and then turned to leave.

"Syd?" my father asked. I turned back around. He looked like he was about to say something, and then thought better of it. "Never mind."

*

I slumped on the couch at home and glared at nothing. No one was willing to tell me what was going on. I directed my glare at the phone, willing it to ring. There was silence for a minute, then the phone rung. It was deafening, and I jumped about a foot, and then looked around sheepishly. I snatched up the phone and answered it breathlessly. 

"Joey's Pizza?" a hoarse voice asked. I was startled. It didn't sound like Vaughn. 

"Um…wrong number," I said warily and hung up. I had a quick debate with myself. It could be Vaughn, so I should go; or it could be a trap, so I shouldn't. Finally, going won the debate and I grabbed my car keys and coat and set off.

Well, I was right. It was Vaughn, and I had my reason for him not being there for the switch. He looked like death warmed over, and I didn't hesitate in telling him just that. 

"Oh, thank you so much," he replied, his voice even more hoarse than before. "Whenever you get the flu, I'll be glad to tell you the exact same thing."

Okay, I deserved that. I probably shouldn't have told him that he looked like crap, especially when he'd obviously made an effort to conceal it. He was wearing the customary suit (albeit a little wrinkled), and he'd attempted to hide the tissues in his pockets. I apologised, which he accepted gracefully. Or more gracefully than I would have. Anyway…

"Well, did the papers say anything interesting?" I asked in an attempt to distract him. It seemed to work, he stood up straighter.

"Yes, there were very (cough) informative. However there are some parts missing, and we'd like you to get them for us when you retrieve the duplicates." 

I frowned at him. I wasn't retrieving the duplicates, someone else was. So even the CIA screws up sometimes. I must admit, I was pretty stoked at that little piece of information.

"Err…your info's wrong. I'm not the one going…" I started, but he waved me silent.

"Yeah, we know, you aren't the one being sent. It doesn't matter," Vaughn explained as he dug around in his pockets for a tissue. He eventually found one and blew his nose loudly. Okay, maybe the CIA doesn't screw up. Damn. I waited until he was finished evacuating his brain matter through the nearest orifice, then invited him to continue.

"We're sending a retrieval team earlier than SD-6. We leave on Wednesday. Better pack your stuff and take some vacation time," he said. 

"We?" I asked, confused.

"Yes, there's are group of agents going- you, me, and a couple of other agents. Don't worry about them," he answered.

Well, it seemed like the business part of the meeting was over, so I was free to ask questions. There was only one I wanted to ask.

"How come you weren't there for the switch? Was it because you're sick?" I asked. Vaughn nodded. "Okay then. Well, I better go," I said. He nodded again, and opened the door to the car. I walked back through the car park towards my own car. I had a nasty craving for ice cream. Damn cravings.

*

I struggled in the front door, dropping my cars on the table and nearly dropping the pizza and videos I'd bought. Not to mention the ice cream. Francie's head ducked around the corner, and her face lit up. "Movie night!" she exclaimed. My other friend Will ducked his head around the corner and grinned at me. "Hey Syd!" he called. I struggled to wave at him, and the videos went flying. They clattered to the floor, making more noise than I would have thought possible. 

"…oops," I said sheepishly. Francie and Will just laughed at me, then stood up to help me. Together we staggered into the living room and dropped the stuff on the table. I stepped back to survey the mess. It was a masterpiece- ice cream well on its way to melted was dripping onto the pizza boxes, which were already wet with grease. The videos weren't in much better shape. I leaned over and picked up the ice cream bucket, walked carefully into the kitchen to avoid it dripping on the carpet and shoved it in the freezer. By the time I walked back, Francie and Will were already sitting on the couch, munching on pizza. I gave them a look of mock outrage. 

"We saved you some room," sniggered Will, gesturing to the postage stamp sized space on the couch. I grinned, then promptly went over and sat on his legs.

"Oof," grunted Will as he tried to shove me off. I struggled valiantly, and he finally surrendered. In the meantime, Francie had snagged the pizza box and proceeded to hold it hostage.

"No pizza until you can behave," she said snootily. I cracked up, then sat where I was with an angelic look on my face. Will snickered, and then copied me. Francie struggled to keep a straight face, finally giving up and snorting. 

Well, we did eventually get to watch the movie- a sappy romance movie. Will wasn't particularly impressed, he wanted action. Tough. 

*

I woke to the sound of my alarm clock. It had the sort of buzz that was guaranteed to wake you up, the ones that only a hated aunt could possibly wish on you, but only if she was in one of her worst moods. It drilled into my head like it was an electronic pile driver intent on a spot of cranial surgery. I cursed the world; told it to go away and leave me alone and then curled up in the bed with the intention of getting back to sleep. 

By then it was all too late of course, the raucous noise had done its job and I was wide-awake. (Note to self: find person who invented alarm clock. Meet in dark alley. Hide bodies.) I swung my feet out of bed and rubbed my eyes in a misguided attempt to clear them. Great success. It just smeared the gunk around. Then I began the tedious task of finding some clothes. Okay, maybe it would have helped if I turned on a light, or at least opened the curtains. I bumped into half a dozen things that I swear weren't there last night. A quote rose, unbidden in my head: Shin- device for finding objects in the dark. I snickered.

After a valiant attempt to find some clothes, I finally conceded that perhaps electric lights had been invented for a reason. I switched on the light switch. Gee, that did make things easier. I could actually see the closet. And the note I'd written to myself the night before. _"Meet dad at pier, 6am."_ I stared at it for a few seconds, trying to comprehend it. The memory arose, and my eyes widened. I snatched my watch from the table and stared at it. _5:40am_ the cheery little readout told me. I swore under my breath. 

Let's see, it takes 10 minutes to reach the pier (7 if I don't obey any traffic laws…tempting…), so that gives me 10 minutes to get ready. I ran (alright, stumbled) to the closet, grabbed a red silk blouse and some black trousers and pulled them on as fast as possible. Then I grabbed the "bank papers" off my desk, stuffed them into my portfolio and snatched a pair of shoes. I bunny hopped down the hall, trying to put on my shoes as well as walk. It was risky business but I managed it. Then I grabbed a banana for breakfast, scrawled a quick note to Francie and grabbed my bag. I was almost out the door before I remembered: it's slightly hard to drive a car without keys. Not impossible, but more time consuming. I ducked back in, grabbed my keys and walked out the front door. A cold wind blew through me, chilling me to the bone. Oh yeah, Syd, it's _winter_. I opened the door again, shoved my hand around the corner, scrabbled it around a little, then snatched my coat. Finally, I was ready to go.

*

My father was pacing up and down the pier by the time I arrived. I covertly checked my watch. _5:59am_. Good, I wasn't late- I was even early (by a few seconds…) I strode up to him, shivering in the early morning cold. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps. I smiled at him, not really expecting him to return it.

"I found out what's going on," he said. Always one to go straight to business. What happened to the "Hi. How are you?"? Oh yeah, this is my father we're talking about. Silly me. I nodded at him to continue. "This is going to sound a bit morbid but there's no other way to say it. He's training your replacement." I stared at him in shock. How could he say that so calmly? This was my life we were talking about! Didn't I matter to him? I glared at the uncaring bastard. He frowned at me, puzzled.

"He's training your replacement in case you're injured on a mission and can't finish it," he explained. Okay, I felt a little stupid. I think my father thought I was a little stupid too, from the look he was giving me. "Did Vaughn tell you about the mission?" I stammered in an attempt to cover it up. Subject changes are like acne cover-up make-up: everyone notices that you're trying to draw attention away from something, but it's so blatantly obvious that they pretend not to see it so they wont hurt your feelings. That was one social skill my father did know…as opposed to the many he doesn't. But I digress. My father nodded and said "yes, they're sending a team this time. I'll inform Sloane that you need some vacation time. I'll tell him there's been a death in the family or something."

Well, that was a relief. I had no idea what I was going to tell Sloane, and it'd sound more believable if Dad told him, what with me grieving and all. My father is a lot of things; close to his family is not one of them. Fortunately, I don't share that trait and Sloane knows it. So there was one problem solved. I checked my watch again. Time to go. I said my good-byes, gave him my portfolio (see, I am so dedicated to my work) and went back home. Hopefully Francie wont be up yet, otherwise I have to lie to her again.

*

"Why aren't you at work?" asked Francie through a mouthful of micro waved pizza. I was staring at her in amazed shock, kind of like the way people stare at a car accident. It's not a pretty sight, but for some reason you just cant look away. How could she eat that for breakfast? Gross…

"Syd?" she asked again, startling me out of my reverie. 

"What?" I asked. I was pretty sure she'd asked me a question before. Now all I have to do is remember it…or maybe if I sit here like a stunned mullet she'll take pity on me and ask again. I was going with the latter.

"Why aren't you at work?" she asked again. Score! Now let's see if I could come up with something… Inspiration struck me, my lie-muse awakened. Why not make my story more believable by telling it twice?

"I was there, but my father found me. One of my favourite aunts died last night, and he'd arranged some time off so I could go to the funeral," I said in an appropriately stunned, grieving niece voice. I should be an actress. Pays better than this job and people don't try to kill me. Alright, so some whackos might, but then I'd have bodyguards. And public sympathy. On second thought, maybe it seemed a little boring. Before I could get to caught up in my thoughts Francie distracted me.

"When do you leave?" she asked. I thought fast.

"They're ringing me with the details later today," I said. There, that way I could explain my leaving just after a phone call. I am such a genius I even astound myself. Francie nodded, mumbled some more condolences, and then let me go pack. 

*

I was nearly finished packing when the phone rang. I dashed through the house, snatched it up and answered it breathlessly.

"Syd? It's your father," said the voice. Francie's head popped around the corner and looked at me questioningly. 'It's my father' I mouthed to her. She nodded and pulled her head back around the corner.

"Yeah?" I asked, cupping the mouthpiece with my free hand.

"You're meeting them at the international airport tomorrow, 7:30pm. They'll be waiting for you on the lobby chairs. And Sydney?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

I hung up the phone and stared at it blankly for a minute. What did that mean, him wishing me good luck? He'd never done _that_ before. Maybe this was going to be harder than I had originally thought. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe he was just worrying too much. Maybe I should stop speculating and rejoin the people in the present. Sounds good. I might just do that.

I looked around the seemingly empty house. Francie was being unusually quiet today. I decided to hunt her down. If I was going away again so soon after returning I should probably spend a bit of time with her. Damn conscience. 

*

I spent the day with Francie just wandering around. We had no real intentions of doing anything, and that's always a bad thing at the mall. Especially when you both have money. I didn't really need the new shoes…or the new outfit…or that bracelet. But the shop lady told me how nice they looked, and I was suckered in. (Note to self: you are a loser. Supplementary note to self: stop going to shops just so the assistants will compliment you. It's sad, and a little disturbing.)

After we spent some of our money (okay, more like half my pay in my case. Somehow Francie managed to escape with most of her savings intact.) we went for a walk along the beach. Francie chattered on and on about how she'd really like to run a restaurant, and I nodded at the appropriate times. I neglected to inform her of the less interesting parts of running a restaurant (ie. The cooking, the cleaning, the rent, the staff, the patrons, everything). Ignorance is bliss.

One day down, one more to go. I spent most of the next day at home. Francie was at school, and the house was quiet. Almost too quiet- I nearly put on one of Will's CD's that I found under the couch. I rechecked that I had packed everything and settled down for some quality TV catch-up. Jerry Jerry Jerry. (See previous note to self about being a loser. Remember it.)

* 

Before I knew it, it was time to go. I said my goodbyes to Francie and Will (who was over _again!_ Doesn't he have a home?) and then drove to the airport. Well, it was more like I drove to the main road, and then I rolled to the airport. The traffic was going so slow that I was tempted to turn off the engine and see if I could just roll in. You'd probably think that I'd be late. But I am the master of time management- I know exactly how much time it's going to take me to reach the airport depending on which route, if my car breaks down or if there's an accident right in front of me, and the wreckage strews all the way across the road, blocking traffic for miles around and making it impossible to reach an exit ramp. Yep, I am sad.

I arrived at exactly the time I wanted to (give or take a few seconds…alright, minutes.), and began the tedious search for a car park that wasn't going to cost me an absolute fortune. It's times like these that I wish I did have a CIA badge, despite the security risk. I could just wave that badge around, say that it was a matter of national security and the prime spots would be mine. And when I was arrested I could conceivably claim that abuse of power is a new term for me. Yeah, and pigs fly. (When a cop falls out of a helicopter, is that a flying pig? Or is it more like a falling pig? No offence to cops, but I'm curious.)

There were two options available to me: I could park close to the entrance and come home to a fee with many digits, or I could park where there's no fees and call a taxi because it's too far to walk. I chose the former- maybe I could expense claim it. Hey, anything's possible.

I struggled to get my bag out of the boot. I may have forgotten to mention this earlier, but my car is tiny. It has room for me, a wallet and a portfolio. That's about it. How I managed to get my suitcase in before, I don't know and I certainly regret it now. I have a vague memory of pushing really hard and the sound of the seams creaking. I glanced at the bulging mass and sighed. It looked like my boot had grown a bulbous tumour. Pleasant. I took a deep breath, grabbed the handle and heaved on it. It struggled valiantly, and then gave way in one go. Of course, it smacked me hard on the chest and knocked me into the middle of the road. I glanced around sheepishly, absolutely sure that the universe was out to get me. It would be just my luck if I fell into the road right in front of Vaughn. I quickly checked and sighed in relief. Maybe I was just being paranoid about the universe out to get me thing. I picked up my bag, stomped over to the boot, slammed it closed and headed to the entrance.

What is wrong with the world today? There I was: a young, fairly attractive woman struggling with an ungainly bag and no one came and offered to help me. Not one person. I struggled with it all the way over to the lobby chairs and sat down with a thump, pretending to catch my breath after the strenuous exercise of carrying my bag. A few minutes later a guy came over, sat down next to me and started reading a newspaper. _No_ I realised_ he's only pretending to read that._ He glanced surreptitiously at me and said through the corner of his mouth:

"Buy a first class ticket to Milan, Italy. Try to sit in the third row. We'll contact you in flight," he murmured. I disguised my vague nod by running my hand through my hair. I glanced at my watch, looked surprised in case anyone was watching and grabbed my bag. I turned to brave the lines at the ticket queue. This could take awhile.

I may be the time-master when it comes to driving, but when it comes to queues I'm hopeless. I'd thought that I would be in line for ages, so I bought a packet of chips to eat while I waited. Unfortunately, I have never been a fast eater- I tend to get a nasty case of indigestion, so I'm that person at the dinner party who's still eating while everyone else sits around uncomfortably waiting for them to finish. So I was halfway through the packet when I reached the front of the line. Damn.

"Are there any tickets to Milan left?" I asked through a mouthful of potato chip crumbs. Gee, I must have looked great. At least I didn't spray them on her, I can say that much for myself. She grimaced slightly through her caked on make-up and hammered away on a keyboard with two nail-polished fingers. I'll never understand why some people a) fail to notice that they have _eight_ other fingers they can use when typing and b) choose to have 2 inch long nails when they work in front of a computer all day. I mean, this woman works in front of a computer all day, trying to help people in queues. Wouldn't it make sense (and improve efficiency) to hire someone who can type more than one word per minute? But no one ever listens to me.

"We have a few seats left. I trust you'll be flying economy?" she asked patronisingly. I glared at her. Don't I look like I can afford to travel business class? Stupid cow.

"I'd prefer business class if possible," I said snootily. Two could play at that game. She sighed heavily. All she needed was some chewing gum, and she would epitomise annoying. I looked disdainfully at her until I got what I wanted. Snatching the ticket out of her hand, I plastered an extremely fake smile on my face and walked off to customs.

*

I boarded the plane and looked around for a seat in the third row. There was one next to a guy in a long-sleeved shirt and dark tracksuit-type pants. I walked over and plastered a slightly less fake smile on my face.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked politely. The man turned around and I struggled to stop my mouth from hanging open. It was Vaughn, and he showed no sign of recognising me. Instead he smiled back.

"No, you take it," he said, standing up to let me in. I stuffed my things into the overhead compartment and sat down. He sat down after me, reached into his carry-on bag and pulled out a discman. He stuffed the headphones into his ears and turned it on. It looked like we weren't going to discuss the mission just yet (which made sense, considering the flight would be several hours long), so I dug in my own carry-on bag, pulled out the book I'd been planning on reading for ages and my own discman. I stuffed the headphones in my ears, switched on the music and opened my book. _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_. So sue me, I thought the movie was good. About time I read the book.

__ ****


	4. Is a Harder Job

_Author's Note: Same message about feedback. I love it. _

I was well and truly engrossed in the events of Harry Potter by the time we had leveled off. My music was playing, the headphones hadn't started to hurt my ears yet and the drinks cart had just come around. I was all set to go. Unfortunately, Vaughn had other plans. He reached over and tapped my shoulder. I turned around to look at him, amazed. I thought we were supposed to talk in public. I looked around the plane. Everyone was either asleep or listening on headphones. That explained the evening flight- we could talk in relative safety. I turned back to face Vaughn. He smiled in amusement when he saw what I was reading, then started to say something, then realised I couldn't hear a word he said. Honestly, someone could have held a pipe band practice right next to my ear and I wouldn't have noticed. Or maybe I would, I hate bagpipes. Anyway, I couldn't hear Vaughn. He gestured for me to take out my headphones. I complied.

"Do you want to hear about the mission now or later?" he asked, his voice still slightly hoarse, but nowhere near as bad as it had been before. I stared at him. He'd interrupted my reading, and my music, only to ask if I wanted to be interrupted now or later. Slightly rude. 

"Now, I guess," I sad snippily. He looked at me strangely, then began to brief me.

"We're going to Milan," he started. _No, I thought sarcastically. __Really?_

"When we get there we'll be meeting up with two other agents. Agent Weiss I think you've already met, and another agent based in Italy, Agent Vermicelli. We don't know yet where the transaction of the papers will take place, and SD-6 doesn't know either, so that's what Agent Vermicelli is for- he'll be getting the information and equipment for us. Weiss is in charge of security- making sure no one sees you with us, and that the extraction goes without a hitch. Follow me so far?"

"So…what do you and I do?" I asked, confused. Vaughn grinned at me.

"Devi fare ammenda, Sydney," he said. I hate it when he speaks Italian, because his sounds so much better than mine. I mentally translated what he'd said. _I have to make amends? Huh?_

"What for?" I asked, bewildered.

"You, and I, have to retrieve the papers before SD-6 finds them. We'll be infiltrating the transaction location as soon as we have it." I nodded. This mission seemed fairly straightforward- no nasty little hitches. Only problem was pulling it off without SD-6 finding out. I asked him if there was anything else, and he shook his head, so I stuffed my headphones back into my ears and reopened my book. It was just getting interesting.

*

The rest of the flight was pretty boring. Harry's adventures kept me amused for awhile, then sleep kept me amused for the rest of the flight. Vaughn had a book out too, but I don't think he read a single word. He dozed off as soon as we finished our conversation. I suppose that's understandable, considering it was getting pretty late. When the plane landed, he stood up and helped me get my bag down from the overhead compartment, whispering to me that he'd left the hotel details in the bag, but not to open it until I was through customs. I thanked him loudly for helping me with my bag and disembarked the plane. 

It only took half an hour to get through customs and baggage reclamation., during which time I regretted not paying more attention to learning Italian. I'd focused more attention on Russian and French, and neglected my Italian tutoring. Big mistake. Next time I'm going to pay attention in everything. I finally got through customs and

reclaiming my baggage (fighting off a little old lady who was absolutely convinced it was her bag. I tried to tell her that if she had come from Heathrow Airport her luggage wouldn't be on the same carousel as my luggage, but she just would not listen.) and walked out of the airport. 

I sat down in the lounge and dug through my bag for the instructions. There it was, a little wadded up piece of paper. I unfolded it carefully and read:

_"L'Albergho del Sole, a taxi driver will know where it is. Pretend to trip over in the lobby, someone will help you and give you further instructions. Go up to the counter and pretend the piece of paper is to tell you how to ask for a room in Italian while you read it for the location."_

Well, my work was cut out for me. First step: hail a taxi. I walked out of the airport easily (having discovered the little handle and wheels on my suitcase made maneuvering it a lot easier) and proceeded to hail a taxi New York style. Not a great success. After awhile of that I finally gave up and asked someone.

"Mi scusi," I asked in my atrocious accent. The lady turned and smiled at me.

"Sì?" Even I understood that much Italian.

"Mi dispiace, non posso parlare italiano bene. Parli inglese?" I asked hopefully. 

"Un po'. Non posso aiutare. Forse potresti domandare qualcuno alla dogana?" she suggested. So she only spoke a little English and couldn't help me, but suggested I ask someone at customs. It took me awhile but I got it. 

"Molte grazie," I thanked her. She smiled at me and walked away. I had two choices: I could go back to customs or I could rent a car. I was going with rent a car. I could return it later. Or get someone else to return it later. Sounded like a plan.

*

It took me awhile but I made it to the _Albergho del Sole. I paid the cabbie and stepped inside the foyer of the hotel. It was much nicer than I'd expected. Seems like we were going all out expenses wise on this trip. I pretended to struggle with my stuff and faked a fall in the middle of the lobby. A man in a dark jacket came over to help me up, stuffing a note in my pocket. I thanked him too (I was doing a lot of that today) and walked up to the counter and smiled graciously at the man behind the counter. He smiled back._

"Oooh, fa freddo oggi," I said as I dug through my pockets for the paper. I smiled at him again.

"Non posso parlare italiano bene," _the truth "e ho bisogno di questo folio"__ waving the paper "così posso fare cose senza un 'translator'" I started, the trailed off. The man was nodding understandingly at me. Seems like I managed to get my point across- namely that I don't speak Italian well and needed the paper so I could do things without a translator. I unfolded the paper and cleared my throat, reading quickly._

"_Ask for a room on the third floor. The only empty room is 7B. It's a double suite, and we're meeting in 7C. Your key is in the pot plant on the sixth floor near the elevators. Make sure no one sees you. We'll be meeting there on hour after you arrive. Be on time."_

I looked up at the concierge. He was waiting for me, so I started talking.

"Posso avere una camera sul piano sei?" I asked, hoping that I'd said it right.

"Aspetti un momento…" he said as he began tapping away on his keyboard. I waited patiently.

"Abbiamo una camera- camera 7B. Le vuole?" he asked. I nodded and he grinned. 

"Va bene. Ecco le chiave, e il facchino ti aiuterà con la sua valigia. Buongiorno," he said, beckoning for the porter. I mentally translated- _the porter would help me with my bag. Cool- as the porter picked up my bag. We headed for the elevator._

It took ages (and $20) to get the porter to leave. I threw my suitcase haphazardly on the bed and ducked outside. There was the plant. I walked over to it calmly, then bent down as if I wanted to look at it more closely. I ran my hand along the base of the pot, found the key and stood up. A man waiting for the elevator was staring at me, so I grinned at him.

"I love these plants," I explained. I know, lame excuse but it's the best I could come up with. He smiled back warily and I headed for my room. There was nothing left to do but watch the clock.

*

1 hour on the dot I walked over to the connecting door. I unlocked it and walked inside. Then I stopped in my place and stared. You know how in the movies whenever there's a CIA operation going down, there's always a room full of equipment in a nearby hotel? Well, having gone on several missions for the CIA and never seeing the room I was beginning to think it was a myth. This changed my mind. The room was full of little black gadgets. There were a few computers, a large screen television, and several little radio monitoring equipment, a few radio headsets and four handguns. 

_Cool, I thought to myself._


	5. The Fun Begins and Sydney gets a new dre...

_Author's Note: I realize Sydney arrived at the hotel in a cab after saying she'd rent a car. My mistake. _

"Oh, good, you're here," said Vaughn; looking up from the computer he was working on. "We can start then." 

"Start what?" I asked, confused.

"Work," answered Vaughn, giving me a strange look. Okay, I should have been able to understand that. I was tired. Yeah, good excuse Syd, stick with that one. Vaughn stood up from where he was working and walked over to me. I stood there, still looking around at all the equipment. I wondered if anyone would notice if I took some home with me. Probably. Damn.

"You've met Agent Weiss," said Vaughn, gesturing to the familiar looking man sitting in the corner talking in one of those phone-headset things. He waved absently at me. I smiled back. 

"And this is Agent Vermicelli," Vaughn continued, gesturing to the dark-haired man that he'd been working with before I arrived. I smiled at him too. Well, that was the introductions over. Knowing Vaughn, we'd be getting straight to work.

"How's it going?" Vaughn asked Weiss and he pulled the headset off. Weiss shrugged lamely. I guessed he was trying to get information on the location by calling people. Vermicelli looked like he was hacking into secured files. I looked away- didn't want to see him doing anything illegal, plausible deniability and all that. Vaughn turned back to me.

"Think maybe I should get you familiar with the gadgets we'll be using," he said quietly. I love this part- the gadgets are sweet. I don't know which is better- CIA or SD-6. I mean, CIA has better bits to work with, but Marshall is some kind of genius. All I know is that both produce some pretty cool stuff, and that's all I need to know. Vaughn led me over to a table with a large black bag sitting on it. He pulled it open, revealing a trove of handy little…things. 

"How did you get _that_ through customs?" I asked, bewildered. Half the time I have trouble just getting my computer through, and this was way more than a computer. Vaughn gave a look that said "what are you, an idiot?" I decided that I could probably guess how they got it through. Those handy little badges. I was becoming more convinced- just HAD to have one. Stuff the consequences. I reached into the bag and picked up what looked like a corsage. I peered closely. Nope, couldn't figure out what the hell it was for. I looked up at Vaughn questioningly.

"It's a biorhythms monitor," Vaughn explained. "It'll tell Weiss how anxious whoever's wearing it is. The plan is for one of us to get it onto whoever's in charge so we can tell whether they're lying to us, or getting suspicious about something." _That's pretty cool. A portable lie detector. I wonder if we can put these on politicians…maybe not._

I put the "corsage" down and reached for the next thing. A bottle of what looked like expensive perfume. That was probably for me, unless Vaughn…I giggled. Vaughn frowned at me and I shut up. I don't know if he realized what I was thinking, and didn't really want to know.

"It's not really perfume," Vaughn said. _No shit Sherlock, couldn't have figured that out myself. Good thing he's here to tell me that._

"It's a powerful tranquilizer. It'll knock someone out for about 2 hours. But you can only use it in emergencies, there's only about three doses of it there." I nodded. Always good to have a fallback plan. 

"What else is there?" I asked. Vaughn smiled.

"The usual suspects- portable microphone so we can talk to Weiss, code de-scrambler in case the papers are in a code locked safe, lock pick kit in case it's in a normal safe, guns with silencers- strictly a last resort Sydney- a fingerprint kit and some mouldable contacts in case of retinal scans. Oh, and we have several sets of costumes, depending on where we're going. The most likely location is another party though."

"Is that it?" I asked. Vaughn nodded. "Good, so I can get some sleep," I finished. Vaughn started to nod then looked like he'd just remembered something. He grabbed one of the phone headset things and handed it to me.

"We'll call you once we have the location," he said as he handed it to me. I took it from him and managed to make it to my room without falling on my face. Jet lag's a bitch.

*

I was sleeping soundly when the phone rang. I woke up with a start, glaring around wildly for the offending noise. My eyes settled on the phone. If looks could kill, the phone would be just a sizzling pile of dust. Unfortunately, looks cant kill and the phone continued to ring away merrily. I sat up and rubbed the gunk away from my eyes. Or attempted to anyway. What really happened was I just smeared the gunk around and changed my vision from spots of blindness and spots of clarity to just all around blurriness. Grrr. I fumbled around blindly for the phone thingy and pulled it on.

"What?" I answered fuzzily. 

"We have the location," said a voice and then hung up. Great. That sounded like a "get over here" hint if I'd ever heard one. Dammit. I swung my bare feet over the edge of the bed and looked around through the haze to find some clothes. Oh yeah, I hadn't unpacked yet. I pulled open my bag and grabbed the first outfit I could find. I had counted on not getting much sleep; so all my clothes were interchangeable. Don't have to worry about not matching then. I pulled on the clothes, grabbed the key from the table and opened the door to the next room.

Vaughn was waiting for me, still wearing what he had been before. Didn't he ever sleep? Maybe that's why he works for the CIA- he's a robot that doesn't require rest or food. Riiiight Sydney, don't say that one out loud. He looked up as I entered the room. Vermicelli and Weiss were gone. I wondered where they were.

"We have the location. It's a big old mansion on the outskirts, and the party is tomorrow night. Vermicelli's seeing about getting us on the guest list…" _ Yeah, maybe he'll have more luck than Dixon,_ I thought darkly.

"…and Weiss is checking the house out," Vaughn finished. He looked at me expectantly, as if expecting me to ask a question. That means he left something out…what could it be…Oh, I'm an idiot.

"When is it?" I asked after a seconds pause. Okay, more than a second. I'm not my best after next to no sleep. Vaughn grinned at me like I'd demonstrated some amazing academic prowess. Patronizing wanker. See, told you I'm not my best.

"The party is tonight. We have about 4 hours to get ready," Vaughn said. _Great_, I thought. _ The man knows nothing about women. 4 hours to get ready for a big party? I don't think so. Try 14 hours. That's a bit closer. _ While I thought that Vaughn opened the closet and pulled something out. He turned to show it to me. It was a dress. I use the term dress lightly. Ever heard of strapless evening gowns? Well, this was more like a gown-less evening strap. I stared at it in utter horror. Vaughn struggled to keep a straight face but ended up sniggering at me. 

"Fooled ya," he said. I glared at him. I'm fond of jokes…but only if I'm not the butt of them. I was still glaring at him when he pulled out another dress. This one was much more like it. Expensive. Just the way I like it. I smiled in spite of myself. Vaughn smiled back.

"I thought you'd like it," he said as he handed it to me. It was stunning- dark blue silk, floor length, velvet bodice and, to make things better, it came with a white jacket! I wasn't going to freeze my ass off! Perfect! I took it from Vaughn and draped it over my arm. It felt expensive, looked expensive and I wanted to keep it. I mean, no one else was ever going to use it, so why couldn't I have it? Made sense to me. Vaughn reached deep into the closet and pulled out some more stuff.

"Hair dye, matching bag and matching shoes," he said, handing them to me. I took them from him, glancing briefly at the shoes and bag before dropping them on the bed. I gave the hair dye closer inspection. Looks like I was going for darker hair this time. Thank god it was a natural colour, I am sick of connecter pen hair. Urgh. I looked up at Vaughn.

"Is that it?" I asked, not really expecting anything else. Vaughn shook his head and pulled out a make up case. I grinned. Free make-up! This was getting too good to be true. He opened it and grimaced.

"Some of this stuff looks painful," he said, pulling out an eyelash curler and frowning at it dubiously. "Are you sure this isn't torture equipment?" he asked plaintively. I sneered at him and grabbed it. 

"A woman will go to any means to make herself beautiful," I deadpanned. Vaughn's face twisted, and I had to laugh. I picked up the stuff, balanced it carefully in my arms and walked back through the door to my room.

*

About 2 and half hours later I was finished. My hair was about 2 shades darker and pulled up away from my face. My make-up was done and I was wearing the dress. It normally wouldn't have taken me that long to get ready- after all, I do this kind of stuff for a living- but I normally don't dye my hair. If I want to change my hair colour I just wear a wig, and dying takes time. I thought I did a pretty good job though. I was just admiring my reflection in the mirror when the little phone rang. I grabbed it and put it on.

"You ready?" asked the voice. I told them I was. "Good, come on in," the voice said then hung up. Not one for pleasantries. I grabbed the bag, shoved my feet in the shoes and walked into the other room.

Weiss was helping Vaughn do something (I don't know what, his back was to me) when I walked in. Obviously I looked good, because Weiss' mouth nearly hit the floor. I smiled at him. Vaughn turned around. I was expecting much of the same from him, but his reaction was more understated. Only his eyes gave him away. I suppose I should have expected that, he's seen me dressed up before. Now that he'd turned around I could see what Weiss was helping him with- the tie for his suit. It was half done up and half just hanging there. I frowned. It looked ridiculous, so I walked over and finished tying it. Vaughn stood dead still, and Weiss went a shade of red. I turned to him.

"Who tied that? What was it meant to be, macramé?" I asked. Weiss turned a deeper shade of red and Vaughn snickered. Weiss glared at him and he shut up. Then Weiss turned to me.

"You look good Sydney," he said. "Now let's get you equipped." 

He went over to the bag of goodies and began pulling stuff out of it. He threw Vaughn and me a "corsage" each. Vaughn attached his to his pocket; I attached mine to the strap of my dress. Hey, they matched. Cool. He also pulled out two pairs of glasses and threw them more carefully to us both. I looked at it, puzzled.

"Hidden cameras," Vaughn explained under his breath. I nodded and put them on. Oh good, they'd put clear lenses in. Last time I got actual prescription glasses and couldn't see a thing all night. Over the next couple of minutes an assortment of little gadgets were given to us and we put them in appropriate places. (The hidden microphone was a bit of a problem- I had to put it in my bra and I think Weiss and Vaughn watched a bit more than necessary.)

Finally we were all ready. Except for…

"Okay, the pair of you are a married couple. Sydney, you're a British psychologist and Vaughn, you're a French commercial shipping tycoon," Weiss started. "Before you ask Mike, you're French because you're British accent is atrocious. Anyway, once the pair of you are inside I'll direct you through the microphones. Don't worry about telling me what you see; I can see everything you can. Got it?" We nodded. 

"Good. Let's get going," finished Weiss. We took the elevator down to the bottom floor and walked outside. Weiss disappeared for a minute and I wondered where he went. I also wondered how we were getting there. My questions were answered pretty quickly. A limo pulled up, with Weiss driving. Vaughn extended his arm. 

"Shall we?" he asked. I climbed into the car and we were off. The mission had begun.

To be continued…__


	6. I cant think of a title for this one

_Author's Note: Thanks go to everyone who's been sending feedback, it's been really great. Oh yeah, any mistakes (and there probably are some) are still entirely my fault. _

I sat in the back seat of the limo, sipping on a coke. I know, pretty sad. There are all sorts of grog in the little fridge and I choose COKE?! I can explain- have you ever tried doing a mission while you're wasted? I rest my case. I glanced over at Vaughn, who was drinking a gin and tonic. It's totally unfair that guys can hold their drink better than girls. Who came up with that idea? Anyway, Vaughn looked like he was enjoying himself. It's not everyday you're actually _entitled_ to boss your friends around. I smiled in amusement and turned back to looking out the window.

Before I knew it we were there. A young guy with a pole up his ass (okay, I'm made up that part) opened the door and helped me out without trying to cop a feel. I grinned at him gratefully. Vaughn walked over to me and extended his elbow. 

"Shall we?" he asked. I took his arm and allowed myself to be led inside.

We stepped into the room and stopped to look around. Another guy with the same affliction as the first one asked if he could take my jacket. I debated whether or not I should. On one hand, I was freezing. On the other hand I would stand out. Britains winter is colder than Italy's, and I was meant to be British. It was a tough one, and blending in won out. I gave him my jacket. I knew I'd regret it.

A short blonde lady in a red cocktail dress came over to join us.

"Hi, I'm Marina Dallatocca," she introduced herself in heavily accented English. I tried to place the accent- German maybe? Hard to be sure. I smiled at her and extended my hand.

"Audrey Larrouse," I said in a stuffy upper class British accent. I love playing the aristocrat. Marina turned to Vaughn, and I nudged him hard in the ribs. He winced, glared at me and cleared his throat.

"Jean-Claude Larrouse," he said in a French accent. Okay, he can fake those waaaay better than me. I can live with that. I tried not to snicker when he said his name. It was practically the French version of John Smith. Marina's smile grew wider when she heard the name. Looks like we were actually _wanted_ guests this time. Improvement.

"Welcome to my home," Marina declared. I smiled graciously. I deserve an Oscar. What do I deserve? "Perhaps you'd like to join me with the ladies…?" asked Marina. Well there was a hint if I ever heard one. Crap. Now I had to go exchange chitchat and anecdotes with a bunch of trophy wives. How fun for me. Marina grabbed my arm (she had quite a grip) and led me away. I smiled apologetically over my shoulder at Vaughn as I left. Oh well, maybe the ladies will be willing to spill some secrets.

*

Yup, they were willing. The only problem was that they never shut up! And one of them was a psychologist. I think I lost 5 years of my life when I found that out. How on earth was I supposed to pretend when there was a professional there? Thank god Weiss had taken some psych courses, he walked me through it. 

The conversation moved and I took the opportunity to glance into the other room where I could just see Vaughn talking to a grumpy looking man in his late fifties. I turned back when one of the ladies (I forget her name…Arabella? Something like that anyway) asked me question about my husband. I nearly lost it there. You see, I'm not married but I was going to be. Unfortunately, he died. I nearly put my foot in it before I remembered Vaughn and I were 'married.' Right. Time to think quickly.

I stood there with my mouth opening and shutting when I heard Weiss' voice in my earpiece.

"You okay Syd? Your heart rate jumped a mile just there," he asked. Damn, forgot about that corsage thingy. I tried to calm my heartbeat down. The ladies were staring at me strangely. Oh shit.

"Okay, good," continued the little voice in my ear. "It's time to do some actual work. Give Vaughn an excuse to come over to you." _Okay, great_ I thought. _Just how do you propose I do that? These ladies just keep staring at me like I'm about to fall on my face…wait a minute…_

"I…I…" I stammered, as I faked swaying. The faces changed from expectant to concerned almost immediately. 

"Audrey, are you alright?" asked Marina. She turned and beckoned Vaughn to come in and help me. I allowed my knees to buckle and I fell to the ground. And landed on my bag. My key decided now was a good time to dig into my thigh and I winced. Fortunately, it just added to my act. Marina ran out and grabbed Vaughn, jabbering to him in barely understandable French. Keeping up the act, he frowned uncomprehendingly, and then spotted me. He left Marina and ran over to help me. He knelt down, murmuring in my ear "Weiss told me. Good job," before turning around. I leaned against his shoulder heavily, leaving him to think of a cover story. 

"My wife is pregnant," he said. Marina frowned dubiously at my stomach, which Vaughn spotted. "Unfortunately she has been very ill lately, and the pregnancy has been a difficult one. If someone could just help me take her to a quiet room, she'll be alright after a little rest," he said in a French accent. Had to hand it to him, he didn't slip at all. Marina's face changed from dubiousness to concern and she helped lead me away from the party and into a quiet room, muttering encouragement to me under her breath. I played along, stumbling and leaning heavily on Vaughn. She led me into the room, waited until I was settled then left. Some people are just soo trusting. Idiots.

*

Vaughn waited until she was gone, then grinned at me. 

"Academy award winning performance there," he said. I told you, I deserve some kind of award. I smiled back at him. Weiss decided now was a good time to enter the scene, and his little staticky voice came on over the microphone.

"Righto kiddies, the clock is on. You have about 20 minutes before that lady's gonna come to come and check on you. Okay, the first lot of papers are in the safe; it's in the study at end of the hall. There's a motion sensor halfway down the hall. I'll let you know when you get to it," he said. Vaughn and I listened carefully, Vaughn with his head cocked to one side. Some people do some silly stuff when they're concentrating really hard. Like people who poke their tongues out while their cutting something. I think it's pretty funny anyway. 

Vaughn carefully opened the door and poked his head around the corner. It looked like the coast was clear, so he gestured for me to come out. We both crept down the tiled floor (I'd left my shoes in the room, complaining that my feet were 'swollen'). We were about 15 metres away from the room when Weiss interrupted us.

"Okay, look down near the skirting board. See the little LED?" he asked. We looked down. There it was, blinking away merrily. Vaughn told Weiss that we could see it.

"Okay, well there are four of those forming a laser curtain. Don't bother looking for them; the one you can see is the only one you'll find. You'll just have to take my word for it. Is the LED blinking?" he asked.

"Yep," said Vaughn. 

"Right, well you have to jump through the curtain in between the flashes. Make sure your timings right. Oh, and try not to take too long," Weiss finished and was gone. I frowned down at the little light. Damn it, blinking away merrily, oblivious to how much I hated it. Stupid inanimate object. I studied it intently. On off on off on off on…you get the point. Here goes nothing…

I jumped through the curtain successfully, Vaughn a couple of blinks behind me. Well, there was that done. Pity we'd have to do it on the way back again. I tried not the think about it. The adrenaline was pumping and I was ready for anything…except being forced to watch a Barney marathon. Nothing can prepare you for that. Anyway…

Vaughn and I continued on our merry way until we reached the door to the study. Weiss was coming forward with any handy information, so I was guessing that we had to figure this one out ourselves. I reached out and tried to open the door. Locked. Damn. I was seriously considering just kicking it until it broke when I remembered the lock pick. Vaughn, being not quite as violently minded as…someone else…had already pulled out the lock pick. I frowned at it apprehensively. I had no idea how to use one of those. I was just about to tell Vaughn that when he expertly fitted into the lock and proceeded to bugger it up like a pro. I shut my mouth. Don't tell him and he'll never know he can do something I cant. 

The door clicked and Vaughn pushed it gently open. He pulled the lock pick out and put it back in its kit. Then he stood up and grinned at me.

"Good job," I said coolly. Vaughn's grin widened.

"Yeah, your file never listed it as one your skills so I thought I should learn," he said calmly as he walked into the room. I stood dead still for a second. Damn it, should've known I couldn't hide stuff from him. Unfair. What is it?

We stepped into the room and I shut the door quietly behind us. Then I turned to face the room. There was something missing…something important…oh _wonderful._ There was no safe.

To be continued…


	7. Knocking the Sense into Syd

Author's Note: I'd actually already written this chapter, but after many requests to put some romance into this story, and some thought I decided to re-write this one with an attempt at romance. I warn you though; I have no idea how to write romance, so I'm just figuring it out as I go. Here goes…

"Uh…where's the safe?" I asked Vaughn. He looked at me.

"Behind the painting above the desk," he said, frowning at me. Great, just what I always wanted, Vaughn to think I was some kind of idiot. Smooth move Sydney. I smiled at him lamely.

"Oops, didn't see it there," I said, further putting my foot in it. Just shut up. Good advice. I walked over to the painting and lifted it off the wall. There was the safe, just where he'd said it would be. He walked over to join me. I stepped back and cocked my head, studying the safe intently. Vaughn just walked over to it, pulled a little doohickie out of his pocket and slapped it onto the door near the dial. The little screen lit up and numbers began to scroll through the screen.

After a minute the doohickie gave a cheery little beep, and three numbers were flashing on the screen. Vaughn spun the dial and the safe sprung open.

"My hero," I proclaimed. He smiled shyly at me and my breath caught. Think other thoughts, think other thoughts. Don't get distracted here…

I reached around him and pulled the papers out of the safe, then slammed the door shut. I turned to grin at him.

"One down…" I said.

"One more to go," came Weiss' voice from the earpiece. I'd forgotten about him. I hoped fervently he hadn't heard (or seen) my little panic attack. Not very likely, but I could dream. 

"Where to next?" Vaughn asked, drawing me back to the situation at hand. I tried to look attentive.

"Back down where you came from, third door on your right. They're in a case somewhere in the desk, I don't know any more than that." 

"Got it," said Vaughn as he checked the hall from the door. I started to follow, then realised I was still holding the papers. I stuffed them into my bag and followed.

We broke into the next room (Vaughn was the master of the lock pick) and looked around for the desk. I spotted it and pointed it out to Vaughn. We both walked over to it and began rummaging through the drawers. I wasn't having much luck with the first drawer (the papers were interesting but unfortunately weren't what I was looking for) so I started looking through another one. After a minute Vaughn let out a triumphant cry.

"I found it!"

"Why don't you just put it back where you found it and no one will be hurt," came a voice from the door. _Oh crap._

Vaughn and I turned around slowly. There was an image from my worst nightmares- a security guard had a gun pointed right at us. He gestured with it for Vaughn to put the case on the floor. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye before lowering his arm slowly. I counted to three under my breath, and both Vaughn and I pounced.

The next few minutes were just a blur with lots of grunting and getting hit by something. Followed by something impacting with the back of my head hard enough to send me sprawling. I saw stars, I saw birds, I saw all sorts of crap that I don't really think should have been floating in the air in front of my eyes. The world was spinning and I didn't like it. I fought the urge to spill my guts.

Somehow Vaughn managed to knock the security guard out, I remember him stuffing the body into the closet. Then he came over to me and helped me gently up to a sitting position. The world spun madly and I fought harder to retain my stomach contents.

"Syd?" he asked, concern evident in his face. _Wow his eyes are green,_ I thought.

"Michael…" I mumbled. Vaughn stared at me, green eyes wide.

"You called me by my first name," he said, shocked. _Oh damn, I said that one out loud. So much for trying to keep a professional distance. Now what?_

"Um…better than calling you someone else's," I murmured. He laughed, his face close enough to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. Not that that was a bad thing or anything. Just a little strange. I placed my hands firmly on the nearby chair and started to pull myself up. Bad idea. The world spun madly and I ended up on my ass. Leaning heavily on Vaughn's chest. 

"Maybe you should rest a minute," suggested Vaughn, concern apparent in his voice. I heartily agreed, leaning back into his arms. Okay, I know I'm meant to be some kind of super woman, double agent extraordinaire. Unfortunately, I happen to have feelings too, and some inappropriate ones. I shouldn't feel the way I do about Vaughn, and I try to deny it. Maybe I deny it too well. I don't know. All I know was that despite the feeling that a nasty man with a jackhammer had taken up residence in my head, I was actually enjoying this. Cant last forever though.

"Okay, I think I'm okay now," I said, pushing myself up. Vaughn let me go and studied me anxiously.

"Are you sure? I don't want you trying anything you don't feel up to," he said. I smiled ironically. 

"Don't really get much choice do I? Marina's going to check up on us soon," I said. I reached out for the chair again, but Vaughn just lifted me to my feet. The world spun lazily. _Alright, not completely recovered but close enough,_ I thought right before I tossed my cookies on the plush carpet. _Gross._ I turned back to Vaughn and smiled sheepishly.

"At least I wont have a problem seeming sick," I cracked. He didn't seem to buy it, and took my arm under the elbow. 

We walked, staggered, stumbled and dragged (not necessarily in that order) our way back to the room. Vaughn watched me carefully, making sure I wasn't going to pass out on him or something. After some effort… okay, lots of effort, we made it back to the room. I stumbled into the room and proceeded to empty my stomach contents in the toilet. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and staggered back out. Marina was waiting for me.

"I'm taking you home Audrey," said Vaughn, the accent back in place. The accent was fake, the concern wasn't. My heart was fluttered and I nodded shallowly.

"Sounds like a good idea," I mumbled vaguely. Marina tutted sympathetically and Vaughn came over to help me out. He mumbled a vague apology, which Marina dismissed with a wave of her hand. Together the three of us made our way outside. Marina and Vaughn sat me down on the stairs.

"I'm just going to get the car. _Je t'aime_," said Vaughn quickly before jogging off to the carpack, leaving me with Marina and my thoughts. Vaughn's parting words keep replaying in my head. _Je t'aime. _ _I love you. If only they were the truth. If only._

Marina packed me into the limo, making sure I was comfortable. After many reassurances on my part, and a promise that I would go straight home a lie down she finally let us go. Vaughn slumped down in the backseat of the car. He looked thousands of miles away, and obviously didn't want to talk about the mission and I doubted Weiss would. That just left me with nothing to do but sit, nurse my headache and think. I listened to the radio. Roxette. I love their stuff. I tried to pick the song. After a minute I had it. 'Fading like a flower (every time you leave.)' 

I listened to the lyrics and was struck by how appropriate they were to my life. _Every time I see you, well, I try to hide away. _Every time I see Vaughn I hide away under a mask of professionalism. _But when we meet it seems I cant let go._ Once again, so much like our meetings it was scary. _Every time you leave the room I feel I'm fading like a flower._ Too true. How strange. I allowed myself to be lulled to sleep by the music.

Author's Note: This is not the end- I'd say there's about two or three more chapters left. But I'm at a bit of a loss- should Sydney tell Vaughn her true feelings? Should I keep writing romance? Should I keep writing full stop? Feedback!!!

_BTW: the song 'Fading like a Flower (every time you leave)' happens to be one of my favourite songs, and I was listening to it when I thought how appropriate it was to my Syd. What do you think?_


	8. A Different Point of View

Author's Note: umm…I'm attempting some more romance…and I can't think of anything else to say right now, so I'll just get on with the story.

I can't believe I said that. It just popped out before I could stop it. I mean, she was sitting there, looking miserable and I couldn't help myself. What makes it worse- I said it loud enough for the microphone to pick it up. Idiot, Michael, what are you? So much for the 'not emotionally attached' pretence. I could just kiss it all goodbye.

I hate this so much. I love her, I love everything about her. The way she stays positive despite almost insurmountable odds. The way she gets can get some of the hardest jobs done, and still manage to stay herself. I love the way she talks, I love the way she smiles and I love the way she answers the phone. Yeah, I know, it's sad but true. I can deny it to everyone else but myself- I am in love with this woman.

But that's not why I hate this. I even love the fact that I can love Sydney. The reasons I hate this is because I'm not supposed to be in love with her. It goes against almost every regulation in the book- fraternisation, emotional attachment between handler and double agent, etc. 

And I can understand why- I feel extremely protective of her. I could barely control myself when that prick hit her. I actually lost control for a second there, became way more violent than I usually am, knocking him out using the most brutal means necessary: smashing his head repeatedly against the desk. Thank god Sydney didn't see that, I cant begin to imagine what she would have thought if she did. Fortunately I regained my senses enough to hide the man before running to Syd. At least I did that much, but if I'd done my job better and watched for guards then we wouldn't have had any problems. Sydney's been hurt- and worse yet, potentially compromised- and it's entirely my fault. My most fervent hope is that the man that caught us wont remember enough to identify us.

However, the reason I hate this situation the most is this: everyone knows that I love her…except her.

So I sit in the backseat of a limo with the woman I love and I stare out the window. I think she wants to talk, but I cant just yet. I don't know what to say. So I ignore her. I hope she understands. The silence in the car is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Someone or something needs to break the silence. I was trying to think of something to say to Sydney, but Weiss turned on the radio, saving me from potential embarrassment. Thank god, no matter what I say I'd probably put my foot in it. I mean, who knows what goes on behind those chocolate brown eyes of hers?

I realise I've been staring at her, though I don't think she noticed. I turn back to the window and watch the world go by. The traffic was shocking. The Italians have this thing called '_bella figura'_, which translated literally means 'good figure.' It basically means that you can do pretty much anything you want as long as you do it with style, with _savoir-faire_. So if you feel like parking your car on a roundabout, you do it. If you want to double park, go ahead. As you can probably imagine, the traffic is something to behold. I watched, amused, as a smart car (a tiny car that you see a lot in Italy) stopped in the middle of the road and the driver just got out and went shopping, leaving it in the road. 

The collar and tie of my suit is bugging me, and I run a finger around my collar to loosen it. I know I can undo the knot now, but a small part of me doesn't want to. Sydney tied this knot for me, her slender fingers managing what Weiss and I could not. So if I try to undo it, I'll probably just tighten it even further, asphyxiate and die. I think this may a job for the professionals…or perhaps scissors. I briefly debated which one would be more fun- I enjoyed Sydney tying it a bit more than I should, but who wouldn't enjoy hacking up an Armani tie with a pair of scissors? It's a close call, so I'll decide later.

A song comes on the radio. I recognise it from somewhere…it's a Roxette song. I actually like some of their stuff, but I never want Weiss to find out or I'll never hear the end of it. It's an older song, early nineties if I had to make a guess, but I still remember the name. 'Fading like a Flower (every time you leave).' The irony of the lyrics strikes me- it sums up my relationship with Sydney perfectly. I look over to her, and she's sleeping peacefully.

I love the way she sleeps.

_Author's Note: Ha! Bet you weren't expecting that!! A VAUGHN chapter…though shorter than usual. There's a limit to how much prose I can write without beginning to repeat myself. So, I'll never know what you think of my romance unless…you guessed it, FEEDBACK. If you've gone to all the effort of reading my story, surely you can spare some time and write just a little bit of feedback __J_


	9. Another Change in Perspective

_Author's Note: Well, I enjoyed writing as Vaughn, but Sydney is my main character, so I'm back to her again._

The car has stopped moving, waking me up. I hadn't even realised that I'd fallen asleep. I sit up straighter, my headache considerably better after my nap. Weiss has already left the car. Good. I mean, I don't mind him as a person, but I needed to talk to Vaughn alone. I look over to him- it seems he's been waiting for me to wake up. His tie is still done up, but decidedly more lopsided than before. I smiled at him, nodding towards it. He grinned sheepishly.

"I wasn't sure how to undo it, so I thought I'd just wait," he explained, looking a bit embarrassed. I reached out and pulled on one of the ends. The knot fell up apart, leaving Vaughn looking at it sheepishly. I kept my fingers there for a bit longer than strictly necessary, then pulled them away and clasped them in my lap.

"Hard to do up, easy to undo," I said. He nodded. Silence fell. We sat there for a minute, just looking at each other. Finally I dragged my eyes away from his. It took a lot of effort; I love the colour of his eyes. I looked down at my hands. The silence was becoming uncomfortable. It seemed he felt it too, because he sighed deeply. 

"Syd?" he asked just as I started to open my mouth. I clamped it shut and looked at him. He seemed to be psyching him up, so I waited patiently.

"You know what I said before?" he asked earnestly. I nodded. He took a deep breath.

"Umm…you realise I was just acting, right?" he asked imploringly. My heart sank. _You should have know that Syd. At least you don't have to worry about protocol anymore._

"Um, yeah. Of course. And you know I didn't mean anything, it was my concussion talking," I said quickly. His face changed instantly- earnest to contrite. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry! How's your head? You feeling okay?" he asked, his face concerned. It was like a traffic light: earnest-contrite-concern-earnest-contrite-etc…

"Well, the first thing I'm going to do is lie down…as soon as the door comes around again I'm getting out," I cracked, gesturing how the car was swirling with my hands. He jumped out the car, ran around the back and opened the door for me. I started to get out, with his help. Even if it only means something to me, I can still enjoy it. 

With considerable help on Vaughn's part we made it up to my room. I bent down to get my pyjamas. Vaughn just stood there, watching me. I looked at him. He didn't seem to get the hint, so I had to come right out and say it.

"Would you mind turning around please?" I asked, holding up the pyjamas. He coloured slightly (it looked good on him) and turned around. I got changed quickly and told him it was safe. He turned back around and helped me get settled in bed. I sank into the pillows. Pillows- the single best invention on earth. Right now anyway, ask me in a couple of days and I'll say something totally different. Brilliance is not eternal.

"I'll check on you in a couple of hours. If you feel any worse, let me know immediately," he said. I nodded drowsily and he left. I rolled over onto my side. The lyrics from another Roxette song ran through my head that summed up my feelings entirely. _"Every time I seem to fall in love, Crash Boom Bang. I find the heart and then I hit the wall, Crash Boom Bang. That's the call, that's the game and the pain feels the same._"

Danny was killed almost before it even began. Vaughn and I have been denied a chance. Every time I fall in love, it always seems to fail. And the pain is the same. Unbearable.

A single tear rolled down my cheek and pooled on the pillow.

_Author's Note: Don't worry; I have a happy ending planned. By now, you've probably figured out that I like Roxette. And that I listen to it while I type. The lyrics just seem so suitable!! Oh yeah, the reason why this chapter is so short is because my holidays are finished and I'm back at school. It's a choice between fanfiction and passing. _

_Anyway, I'd say there are about 2 more chapters to go. Then I'm finished!!_


	10. A day on the Town

_Author's Note: I'm sorry this took so long, but school's just restarted, and I just had my birthday, so I haven't been presented with many occasions to write anything. Anyway, here's the next chapter for you. Sorry if I get some of the stuff on Milan wrong, I get my Italian cities mixed up all the time._

I blinked blearily in the early morning light. Looks like I slept all the way through the night…I sat up, confused. I thought Vaughn was going to wake me. I looked around. Aha. That's why he didn't. He was sitting in the armchair, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, dead to the world. He looked so peaceful, slumped there with his mouth hanging open slightly, that I didn't want to wake him. I started to get out of bed when my headache returned. Not full force, but not completely gone either. I whimpered quietly. It was loud enough for Vaughn to hear though, he woke up with a start and sat up straighter. He looked around, confused, and then his eyes fell on me. He grinned.

"I guess I fell asleep," he said, his voice slightly slurred. I nodded, briefly worsening my headache. Note to self: don't do that again.

"Sorry. How long have you been up for?" he asked as he rubbed his face. 

"Couple of minutes, not long," I reassured him. He stopped rubbing and peeked at me between his fingers.

"How's your head? I'm sorry about what I said last night, I wasn't feeling so good. I meant to wake you up, but you looked so peaceful that I decided to just watch you sleep, and then I must have dozed off and…" he trailed off, and grinned in embarrassment. "I babble when I just get up," he explained. I giggled.

"I'd noticed."

He stood up and started to stretch. I massaged my temples, hoping it would help my headache a bit. Vaughn noticed and stopped in mid-stretch.

"Oh, your headache, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. He grabbed a glass off the table and pulled a package of aspirin out of his pocket. He ducked into the bathroom, filled the glass with some water and handed them both to me. I stared at them. Aspirin. Pain relief…good stuff. I popped two tablets out of the little seals and swallowed them with some water. I turned to give the glass back to Vaughn and caught him swallowing some tablets of his own. I frowned at him, confused.

"Antibiotics," he said, holding up the bottle as explanation. He shook it a bit, making the contents rattle merrily. 

"Remember, I was sick before?" _Okay, I feel slightly rude. I'm all complaining about my head, and he's still sick. Rude, Sydney, what are you? I waited until he was finished taking his meds, then handed him my glass. He put it on the table as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. _

"So what are the plans for today?" I asked, swinging my feet back and forth. 

"Well, Weiss is taking the papers down to the regional headquarters to be tested, so we have the day off. What do you want to do?" he asked cautiously. _What do I want to do? I'm spending the entire day with Vaughn and not have to worry about being seen, and I don't know what to do? God I am a loser._

"Maybe we could go sight-seeing," I suggested vaguely. Vaughn's face lit up. Okay, that was obviously the right thing to say. 

"Perfect! That's just what I wanted to do. I'll just go get cleaned up," he said, gesturing down at his rumpled suit and the disarray that was his hair. "Meet you in the lobby in half an hour." With that, he stumbled out the door, leaving me to my thoughts. _What was that all about? He said he didn't like me that way, but that was totally suss. Oh yeah, maybe I should get dressed…_

*

After a long hot shower, I dug through my suitcase for some fresh clothes. There they were, my favourite jeans. I pulled them on, followed by a white turtleneck jumper. Perfect. I felt much better. I had clean hair, and I had 'borrowed' some sheets and towels from the hotel. So sue me, everyone does it. You're meant to. Anyway, I quickly combed my hair and checked my watch. Time to go. I grabbed my coat, purse and keys and set off.

Vaughn was waiting for me in the lobby. He looked really good- casual clothes suited him. In fact, he looked so good that I (being the moron that I am) dropped my keys with a clatter on the floor. I quickly bent down to pick them up, cursing my stupidity. I know I was bright red when I stood back up. Vaughn was chuckling quietly. I sent him a death stare, which he blatantly ignored.

"So where are we off to?" I asked when I reached him. He shrugged carelessly.

"I don't know. We could sight-see around Milan, or we could catch a train somewhere," he suggested. _Hmm…Milan? Or maybe we could go to Venice? Or Rome? Or Florence? Maybe we should just go wherever. I shrugged._

"Let's just get a taxi and see where we end up," I suggested brightly. He grinned.

"Sounds good."

*

After a bit of cruising around (and laughing at what some people will do to get a bargain…) we ended up at the markets. The _piazza (square) was full of people, peddlers and nice little shops. I spotted a __gelateria (ice-cream store) and dragged Vaughn over to get some __gelati. Then we browsed through the items, trying stuff on and laughing at each other. Vaughn fought with a little old lady over who spotted a pair of sunglasses first, while I just stood back and cracked up. At first it was just words, but it started to get physical when the lady began whacking Vaughn over the head with her handbag. At that, he gave up, backing away with his hands outstretched._

"You should really learn to stick up for yourself," I commented as we walked away.

"Hey, that lady was scary!" he replied. I sniggered, and then dragged him over to another stall.

After awhile my feet were sore, so Vaughn dragged me over to a bar (not the English version, more like a restaurant). It was nearly empty, a novelty in Italy. We sat down, and the camiera (waiter) came over to us nearly immediately.

"Buon giorno. Desidera?" he asked for our orders.

"Vorrei un conolli ed un caffe per favore." Vaughn ordered a pastry and a black coffee. The waiter scribbled it down and turned to me.

"E Lei?" he asked for my order. I thought for a minute.

"Dunque…vorrei un caffe con latte e una dolce." I ordered a white coffee and a sweet. The waiter scribbled that down too.

"Quanto costano?" Vaughn asked for the price. The waiter did some quick calculations. 

"Diciasette euro. Va bene così?"

"Sì."__

Once our food arrived, there was silence for a few minutes. The pastry was delicious- I couldn't get enough of it. It probably had more fat than a sumo wrestler, but I was beyond caring. I was in taste heaven, and my jeans were stretchy, so it didn't matter if I bloated up. I looked up from the crumbs that remained on my plate at Vaughn. He was laughing quietly at me. I shot him a questioning look.

"Never had Italian sweets before?" he asked. I grinned sheepishly.

"Am I that transparent?" I asked, embarrassed. He grinned, green eyes crinkling.

"Well, yeah. Try this," he said, shoving a fork with some _conolli_ speared on it. I looked at it dubiously. It looked like someone had taken goopy brown crap and rolled it in soggy paper. Vaughn wiggled it in my face, so I just had to try it. I closed my eyes and bit it off. Okay, I thought I was in heaven before. I was wrong, NOW I was in heaven. Yummy…

"You like it?" he asked. I nodded, my mouth too full to answer properly. He grinned and checked the time. 

"Ooh, time to go," he said. I gestured at my unfinished coffee. He shook his head.

"No time, we only have one day remember…" he said. That got me moving. 

*

"I've always wanted to visit Verona," Vaughn confided to me while we were in the taxi. He was staring out the window, a pensive look on his face.

"Why's that?" I asked, curious.

"I've always wanted to see Juliet's house, but I've never been able to get to it," he explained, turning to face me. I stared at him.

"Juliet's house?" I asked, incredulously. _Vaughn wanted to see JULIET's house? Riiiiiiiiight._

"Well, yeah, ever since we studied it at school, I've always wanted to go there and see it for myself. Don't you?" he asked.

"Well…now that you mention it, I wouldn't mind seeing it. I just didn't know you could…" I said thoughtfully.

"Yeah…hey look!" he exclaimed, pointing out the window. I followed his finger and saw a fete. Cool. Fete's rock. I looked at Vaughn, a devious look on my face. 

"You wanna?" I asked.

"Sure. Hey, pull over!"

And so it was decided that we would attend the fete. 

"C'mon, look, a Ferris wheel," I called, dragging Vaughn behind me. We made it to the man running the Ferris wheel, who lifted the bar of the seat and let us on. I yanked the bar down and waited impatiently. Vaughn was examining the bar dubiously. The ride started with a jerk that made Vaughn jumped. I glanced over at him. He was fidgeting nervously in seat.

"I hope this doesn't undermine my position as your handler, but I have a fear of heights," he said. _Where had I heard that line before? Oh yeah…_

"I take it you've seen '_Never Been Kissed,'_" I said. He smiled nervously over at me. 

"Yup," he said. "Love Drew Barrymore movies."

"You know what? You look just like that guy. You know, the teacher guy," I said. Vaughn grinned.

"You think so?"

"Totally."

"…cool."

We grinned at each other, and then I turned to check out the view. The rest of the ride passed in silence. 

*

After some more childish fun at the fete (in which Vaughn won me a giant panda bear, and I won him…well, nothing. But I tried!) it was getting late. Vaughn quickly glanced at his watch. He looked up and grinned at me. 

"Better get going, wouldn't want to be late," he said cryptically. I looked at him curiously, but he refused to explain. He simply hailed a taxi and whispered into the _tassista_'s ear. They both grinned at me secretively. Great, just what I needed, a secret men's only club. Wonderful.

After about the fifth time Vaughn looked over at me on the car ride I finally broke.

"What?" I asked. He shook his head hurriedly. I glared at him, then pulled a hair chopstick out of my bag. I wound it around my ponytail and pinned it up. Vaughn was staring, a look of enlightenment on his face.

"I'd always wondered how to do that," he said, gesturing to my hair. 

"Well, now you know," I replied, pulling the other chopstick out and stuffing it haphazardly into my hair. Vaughn reached out and gently tucked some loose hair behind my ear. I stared at him, and he pulled his hand away, turning back to the window. I turned to look out mine.

After a relatively short ride, the taxi stopped. I looked around, baffled. This wasn't the hotel. I frowned at Vaughn, who smiled reassuringly. He paid the driver and helped me out of the car. Then he led me away to…oh my god!! We were at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Milan! I looked down at my clothes, panicked. There was no way I could go in there wearing jeans and a jumper. 

"Don't worry about it, they'll just put it down to eccentric rich," Vaughn whispered in my ear. I looked up at him, not wanting reassurance. I wanted something to wear!

"I'm telling you, it doesn't matter," he whispered, leading me up to the counter. 

A dark haired woman in her early twenties was at the counter. I looked at her name badge. _"Mi chiamo Aura. My name is Aura. Je m'appelle Aura."_ Ah, considerate restaurant, writing the name badge in three languages. I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"Buonasera e benvenuto a 'Tracciatore'. Posso aiutare?" She welcomed us and asked if she could help us. Vaughn answered my unspoken question.

"Ho prenotato una tavola per due. Mi chiamo Michael Vaughn." Vaughn told her that he had booked a table for two.

"Può ripetere il cognome lettera per lettera per favore?" She asked Vaughn to spell his name, a mildly embarrassed look on her face. Vaughn grinned.

"Vi, a, u, g, acca, enne," he spelt for her. She ran her carefully manicured finger down the register and tapped it on Vaughn's name.

"Ah, sì, ecco. È la tavola 19, vicino alla finestra." Looks like we had table. And, even better, it was near a window- we get a view!!

"La prendo. Grazie," Vaughn told her we'd take it and thanked her. She grinned shyly at him and waved for a waiter to take us to our seats.

Vaughn, being not only the Master of the Lock Pick, but the Master of Chivalry; pulled my chair out for me, and pushed me in. I smiled graciously at him and he looked away quickly, embarrassed. He seated himself, and the waiter handed us our menus, saying he'd come back when we were ready to order. With that he left us alone. I studied the menu intently, deciding what to eat. I'd just settled on an _antipasto_ when I noticed Vaughn studying me over the top of his menu. I put mine down and waited patiently. He cleared his throat nervously.

"I was just thinking…maybe we should talk before we order," he said. 

"Yeah, sounds good. What do you want to talk about?" I asked. He fiddled with his napkin. He seems to do that a lot when he's nervous- fiddle with stuff. I wonder if he does that at work…

"I had fun today," he started. I smiled, beckoning him to continue. He took a deep breath.

"And I was thinking…since you were comfortable enough to do it yesterday…maybe you could call me by my first name?" he asked, ducking his head. I stared at him. 

"I mean, not in front of Weiss and stuff, but at our meetings and stuff," he continued hurriedly, his green eyes studying my every reaction intently. Finally I answered.

"I would be honoured…Michael."

Vau…I mean, Michael's face lit up. I smiled in amusement. We held eye contact for a minute, broken by the shrill ringing of Michael's phone. He jumped, then pulled it out of his pocket, examining the little screen.

"It's Weiss…I should take it," he said apologetically. I nodded, sitting back. He answered the phone. After a few minutes of encouraging noises and long pauses he hung up.

"The analysis is done," he said. "We're going to have to leave."

I sighed. Too good to be true. Looks like my romantic dinner in Italy was just going to have to wait.

_That's it for this chapter peoples! One more to go, and then it's finished…oh, and feedback rocks! Keep the responses coming!_


	11. The Endi cant think of a better name uni...

_Author's Note: The end is nigh! Mwa ha ha ha ha…okay, here goes._

Weiss was already waiting for us by the time we arrived at the hotel room. He looked up from the table and waved us inside. Vaughn (I cant call him Michael in front of Weiss, so it'd just be easier if I thought of him as Vaughn when I'm with Weiss) pulled off his jacket and threw it on what I surmised was his bed. Weiss proffered chairs to us, which we accepted. I looked at the tabletop. Several manila folders, a phone, a pager and…a yo-yo? What the? I frowned at Vaughn, nodding towards it. He just shrugged it off, giving me an 'another time' look. Weiss, having ignored this little interchange, reached over and opened one of the manila folders and cleared his throat.

"Okay, the good news is that this time we did get the right papers- good job," he started. Vaughn and I grinned at each other in congratulations. Then I realised something.

"You said good news. That implies that there's also some bad news," I said, looking at Weiss questioningly. Weiss sighed, then turned the papers to face Vaughn and I.

"If you'll look here," he said, gesturing with a ballpoint pen, "you'll notice that the meeting is two days from now. We're being recalled back to L.A. Sydney, your father will be ringing you with further information about how you're getting back. As for us, Vaughn, we're outta here first thing tomorrow morning."

Well, there go any plans of further sightseeing. Great. I was giving up touring Italy so I could go back to work. Fun fun fun. I glanced at my watch. 9:30pm. I looked back up at Vaughn and Weiss. Weiss was playing around with the yo-yo. I shook my head; Vaughn'll explain that later. Vaughn was staring at the manila folders with a fierce concentration, his face crinkled into a frown. They were both sitting, silent, but their body language was screaming. They wanted to talk in private- it was hardly subtle.

"If you guys are leaving first thing, then I should probably go so you can pack and stuff," I offered. Vaughn shot me a grateful look and nodded. I stood up, pulled my keys out of my pocket and headed for the connecting door. When I reached it, I turned to Vaughn.

"See you in L.A." I said, then entered my room.

*

I pulled off my shoes and threw them haphazardly across the room, where they landed with a thump. Then I turned to the phone, willing my father to ring so I could get some sleep. I was utterly exhausted. The phone refused to do my bidding, so I changed into my pyjamas. It decided to ring at the most appropriate time- when I was half-dressed and on the other side of the room. I stumbled over to it, tripping over the loose clothes and answered it with a breathless "Hello?"

"Sydney? It's your father," came my father's familiar voice. I settled myself on the bed.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Weiss has already briefed you?"

"Yeah, he told us."

"Good. Well, we need you back here. I need you to pretend that the funeral was too stressing for you after the death of Danny and you had to come back. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure. When do I come back?"

"You're booked on a flight for mid-morning tomorrow. I'll try to meet you at the airport, give you some more details then."

"Okay. Bye Dad."

"Bye Sydney."

I hung up the phone and turned to face my bed. Sleep. Good stuff.

*

The clock outside my window chimed loudly, announcing to the whole world that it was indeed 4:30 am. Great. People are not meant to be awake at this time- it's just wrong. I rolled over onto my stomach, grumbling at the unfairness of it all. All I wanted was a few hours of sleep, and that bloody clock just had to ruin it all for me. I threw my arm out onto the other pillow. And found something. I froze, then sat up. An envelope was sitting on the other pillow. I picked it up, confused. _Sydney_ it said in writing I'd recognise almost as quickly as my own. Michael. I flipped the envelope over and tore it open.

_To Sydney_, I read.

_I have tried to write this to you so many times (this is about the 9th draft) and nothing I say sounds right. So I'm just going to write what I feel and hope it makes sense._

_I just wanted to tell you… that I didn't mean what I said in the car. In case you hadn't noticed, our microphones were still on, so Weiss would've heard anything we said. I know, that's no excuse for hurting you like that, and for that you have my deepest apologies. Forgive me Sydney. Forgive me for hurting you and…forgive me for loving you._

_There. I said it. I love Sydney Bristow. And everyone knows it…everyone but you, which is most unfair as, out of anyone, you deserve to know. So now I'm telling you. I can only hope you feel the same way._

_I had a great time with you yesterday, and my only regret is that our dinner was cut short. I had planned to tell you this then, but unfortunately nothing ever goes as planned. So, next time we can, we'll do it again, with the whole dinner this time. Except maybe we could skip the Ferris wheel, I don't know if I could handle it twice. I told you I always wanted to see Juliet's house- that's still true. But I would also like to, one day, visit your house. You are my Juliet._

_Until we can be together,_

_Michael._

I stared at the letter, re-reading it over and over again. The last words stuck in my mind, replaying over and over. _Until we can be together._ There was only one thing stopping us. I, Sydney Bristow, have just renewed my main purpose in life. SD-6 is going down.

_FINAL Author's Note: Well, that's it folks. All done. What'd you think? Should I write anything else? Suggestions are always good. I feel that, for a final author's note, this is a little short, but I think I've said anything I wanted to say. So that's it for me._


End file.
